Food for Thought
by sashwizzled
Summary: A series of small ficlets. Eighth chapter: On the Outside Looking In (T) and By The Light of The Moon (M).
1. Mint, Poison and Strawberry

14.5.05 - As there are getting to be a lot of these ficlets, I figure I should include a contents table at the beginning; because I know some people don't like the content and I should probably make it clear.

**Chapter1:  
**_Mint:_ PG rated - Rhyth/Gum femmeslash  
_Poison:_ 15 rated sex - Beat/Corn slash  
_Strawberry: _PG rated - Rhyth/Jazz femmeslash  
**Chapter2:  
**_Flower:_ U rated - no pairing; characters: Rhyth, Corn  
_Rain:_ PG rated - Clutch/Jazz het  
**Chapter3:  
**_Warmth:_ PG rated - Clutch/Jazz het  
_Saturday Night at the Video Store:_ PG rated - no pairing; characters: Yoyo, Beat, Corn, Rhyth, Boogie, Gum  
**Chapter4:  
**_Saving Grace: _15 rated violence - no pairing; characters: Love Shockers  
_Look Here: _(by AngryScientist) G rated - no pairings; characters: Rhyth!fic, but with most others  
**Chapter5:  
**_Blend In:_ 12 rated swearing - no pairing; characters: Jazz, Yoyo, Clutch  
_Good Things:_ (Jet Set Radio) G rated - Mew/Cube femmeslash  
**Chapter6:  
**_Lull_: 12 rated - no pairing; characters: Gum, Soda, Yoyo  
_Fly Eyes:_ 12 rated swearing - no real pairing; characters: Beat, a... :cough:... spider  
**Chapter7:  
**_Winner Takes EightK: _PG rated - no pairing; characters: all of the boys  
_In Death: _PG rated - no pairing; characters: Rhyth!fic, but with others  
**Chapter8:  
**_On the Outside Looking In: _12 rated - Clutch/Boogie  
_By the Light of the Moon: _18 rated sex - Clutch/Jazz

* * *

**Mint **_PG – Rhyth/Gum_

The kiss was soft, sweet and as gently nervous as it was sudden. It tasted of mint chocolate – sort of cool and creamy – and was accompanied by fingers dancing down her cheek, brushing the skin with slightly damp fingertips.

Gum couldn't keep it. She pulled away sharply and backed off, crab style, toward the wall – when she finally hit it, she felt her whole body jerk and her tingling lips parted, letting out a long puff of air she'd been holding too long.

"Wh-what 've you done?" she gasped, staring in utter shock at the girl in front of her. She wanted to leave – wanted to be with familiar faces she knew weren't going to put her on the spot like this, but the door was a good few feet away… And besides, Gum would have to go past her to get to it. She was frozen.

Rhyth hadn't moved from her sitting position on the floor. Her knees were red, rubbed slightly raw against the threadbare blanket the two had been sitting on minutes before, sharing biscuits and chatting merrily. Her trembling fingers were touched to her lip and her bright blue eyes were wide, staring at a black patch on the wooden floor where Beat had dropped a cigarette a while back. She seemed as surprised as Gum.

Finally, the younger girl looked up, and as they stared at each other mutely, Gum's limbs jerked into motion; she pulled herself up, avoiding Rhyth's gaze resolutely, slamming the door before she could hear or accept Rhyth's squeak of 'I'm sorry', or feel any pity at the tear that ran down her cheek and dripped onto her dress silently.

* * *

**Poison **_R – Beat/Corn_

The argument had been hard, brutal and searing hot, spiked with cruel words and laced with malice. It was always that way – there was really nothing that should make Beat and Corn hate each other, but hate each other they did, and arguments were common.

The subjects varied – from how to run the gang to what they would eat for dinner, and the other ten gang members were pretty much used to their bickering. Mostly, they just left and let them get on with it. The ten would come back to the shared apartment later on that night to find it empty; both would have stormed off, lost in his own thoughts until as late (or early) as sunrise.

But this had never happened. They had never ended up like this – against the wall, kissing senselessly, almost violently, pulling at each others' clothes like crazed things.

Beat wasn't thinking. He knew, in the back of his mind, that what he was doing made no sense, that they shouldn't be doing this, that they should _stop_, goddammit… but he couldn't.

Every sense was on fire – the air was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional groan, he could smell nothing but hate, feel it in his veins, taste it on the lips of his… lover? enemy?… and he should be repulsed at it all, but it felt so good and in a way, he just didn't want it to stop.

It had been mere moments, but he was addicted.

He forced Corn – or did Corn force him? – into the next room, onto the bed and a small part of him screamed _'stop!'_, but nothing listened.

They were naked, still kissing, tongues clashing, moving together in vitriol filled ecstasy—

They had poisoned each other, all right.

* * *

**Strawberry **_PG_ – _Rhyth/Jazz_

Jazz woke up slowly, teased into the waking world by a series of slow butterfly kisses ticking their way down her collar bone – by a soft, sweet voice murmuring in her ear – soft fingers stroking her bare stomach, flitting over her navel. She flittered her eyes open and smiled lazily.

"Morning," she whispered – the sound barely left her throat, but it was answered with a kiss. Their lips met lightly as they lovingly caressed each other with fingers and tongues – two pairs of muscular legs wrapped around each other under the thin covers of the vaguely uncomfortable bed.

The kiss broke suddenly as Rhyth giggled shrilly – it was so infectious Jazz couldn't help but join in.

"You're ticking me!" the blue haired young girl shrieked. Jazz shuddered with laughter – she hadn't _meant_ to tickle, but Rhyth was just so sensitive!

Her soft laughter turned to screams as Rhyth retaliated full force, tickling her ribs and armpits playfully – trying to stop Rhyth, untangle their legs and move away from her was tricky, and it wasn't long before she was laughing too hard to even try.

Rhyth's impish hands stopped dead – and Jazz's shrieks of laughter with them – as the door suddenly slammed open and a tangled red head angled itself around, glaring at them.

"For God's sake, you two – dildos on low setting, please!"

The door slammed shut again, leaving Jazz blinking, bemused and Rhyth as red as a strawberry in summer.

After a few moments, they burst out laughing again.


	2. Rain and Flower

Next selection - just two.

**Flower** - _G rating_ – _Gen_.

"No."

"But—"

"No. N. O - no."

Rhyth pouted, sticking her lower lip out cutely. It trembled and her eyes filled with tears, making them sparkle.

"I swear to God I'm gonna tie you to a post in the public gardens; the flowers 'd never go dry again."

The tears disappeared as quickly as they had welled up, and Rhyth, sensing she was about to lose, clasped her hands together, crashed onto her knees and toddled forward. Her eyes were eyes as big as they would possibly go, eyelids fluttering, shoulders jutted back so that her breasts stood out as far as possible, but with her metal bra on, it made little difference.

Corn, finally sick of her wheedling, slammed his computer game thing down on the arm of the sofa and stormed out. Rhyth jumped up, giggled and plonked herself onto the sofa, grabbed the game and began to play it, suddenly as happy as a sand-boy. Beat glanced over to her from where he was smoking a stolen cigar and reading the paper.

"One o' these times, he's gonna smack you one."

Rhyth winked.

* * *

**Rain** – PG - _Jazz/Clutch Pairing_

Jazz peeked over the edge of the concrete shelf. It looked over the murky depths of Kibogaoka River, and even as high above the body as she was, the gush of rain water from the pipes leading from every drain in Tokyo to the deepest river in Japan was very loud. It roared in her ears and made her nervous – but not as nervous as looking down made her; she pulled her head back quickly, and directed her gaze to the closest pipe to her instead.

When you were a thirteen year old going to Shibuya High School, a 'test of nerve' was running full tilt across a zebra crossing during rush hour. When you were a Rudie, it was grinding this very pipe right across Kibogaoka Hill right after a rain storm. This pipe was very short – only a few feet – but one of the exit pipes for the rainwater was directly above it, and it was pretty powerful; any Rudie grinding it was at risk of being blown off.

_No one's fallen yet!_, Jazz kept telling herself. _Yet_, some treacherous part of her brain would remind her.

"Not scared, are you?" Clutch was behind her – there was a hint of a laugh in his voice, and he sneezed as soon as he'd said it. He'd literally just went through, to 'show her how easy it was' (although she did suspect he enjoyed it more than anything else) and the redhead was dripping wet. He almost radiated cold air and Jazz shivered just standing next to him.

"If scared means 'not doing something that could kill me', yeah I am, actually," she said, trying to sound relaxed – it sounded forced even to her. Clutch laughed again, and a second later Jazz shrieked, shivering, as he slid his soaking wet arms around her midriff.

"You're freezing!"

Clutch ignored her, save for a very small chuckle right beside her ear. She trembled, but it wasn't the cold.

"Come on…" he murmured cajolingly – only Clutch could sound whiny and sexy at the same time – his breath hot on the side of her neck. She felt him press his body against her back and was distinctly unimpressed with his clumsy attempt at persuading her to put her life on the line.

All for a stupid dare. How asinine.

She spun in his arms and allowed herself a small smile at the sudden guilty-puppy look on his face.

"I'm not doing it!" she exclaimed. Clutch wavered, a bit, but:

"Come on, you fight cops, rivals and Beat on a daily basis. You can – we _all_ can – handle anything and everything.

Learn to live a little."

Jazz rolled her eyes at the cliché, but turned back toward the river, staring at the pipe fixedly, determined not to give in for once – she wasn't going to play the love-struck schoolgirl again, she _wasn't_…

"See?" Clutch had mistaken her wariness for consideration, "It ain't **that** bad. Just think of it as going underneath Benten tower – you get a bit wet, that's about it."

She blew out all the air in her lungs suddenly, as if getting rid of her doubts, and decided – she was _going_ to do this. It was totally pointless, it might kill her – but hey. At least it would shut Clutch up. And it might even be fun!

… Probably not.

Before Clutch could say anything and before she could even stop and think about it, she jumped onto the pipe – her skates found purchase and the metallic screech and spray of sparks out behind her comforted the girl somewhat. This was familiar, normal.

"Aah!" She gave a short scream as the gush of cold water hit her head, soaking her hair and the back of her neck and making her squirm involuntarily. It pushed her head down – the world spun as she saw the river far below – and soaked her back; she screamed again.

Jazz hadn't anticipated the end of the pipe, and as she hit it, she stumbled and fell to her knees, trembling and panting – not from the spray of water so much as the fright and dizziness of looking down.

"You know, I pro'lly should've told you…" she heard from somewhere above her – Clutch had skated around the pipe to join her, "It's not the gush of water that knocks people off. It's really the looking down. They _always_ look down."

She got up – the world spun again, but she stood up straight, shaking excess water from her cropped hair – and began to walk toward the sewers, making to go back to the GG Garage, barely suppressing a grin.

She wouldn't tell Clutch (she'd decided to officially not talk to him for leaving out certain details, and she'd get him back later), but she was really proud of herself for that.

* * *

Rain was for the drabble-me community in LiveJournal. This is really for a practise before I actively join in, but according to Word, I've made the 801 word deadline and I've worked the line 'Learn to live a little' in. I haven't, however, made it a PG-13 rating, so that irked me.

* * *


	3. Warmth and Saturday Night

  
**Warmth** - _PG Rating – Clutch/Jazz_

"I can't believe we're stuck up here," Clutch groused, glaring at nothing, and somewhere to his left, Jazz silently nodded.

It had been about five minutes, but already the two were shivering fiercely, despite the thin rays of sunlight squeezed through the wire mesh above them – the sewer was always cold, but more so in winter. Jazz tried to cover her midriff – the only part of her not covered by clothing – with her arms, but it didn't seem to help any.

A large group of the GGs – at least seven, had gone down into the sewers that morning with plans to tag the whole place up and take it from Poison Jam; if they could find the fish-faced muscle-heads, they might just tag them a few times, too. They'd split into small groups to tag the ghetto, with Clutch and Jazz doing the upper end of the sewers.

Too bad Poison Jam had been lurking in the pipes.

Too bad they had been outnumbered three to one.

Too bad they were now trapped in the vertical water drainage pipe by Kibogaoka Hill, trapped in what seemed like a pocket of freezing air and hoping the monsoon season didn't live up to its name anytime soon.

"I told you we should hide from them."

Very faintly, over a hundred feet below, he could hear Poison Jam's indignant yells echoing throughout the sewer – disgusting threats of what would happen when they were caught, screams of 'where the hell are you?!' (like they were gonna just jump down the pipe and say 'here we are!') – things like that. The rest were just wordless screams of anger that really didn't bother him. Poison Jam were all talk.

Jazz had shut up now, and the only sounds he could hear from her were her teeth chattering and her shifting about, trying to get comfortable. He was having problems getting comfortable himself; they were sitting on a shelf of wire mesh and he could feel every line of metal digging into him.

"You wouldn't be so damned cold if you actually wore clothes that covered you up," he sniped, feeling the need for something to do, even if it was just bitching at Jazz.

"I wear a scarf, isn't that enough?"

"You're still cold, aren't you?"

He could feel Jazz's indignant eyes on the side of his head, but he resolutely ignored her; they sat in silence for a bit. Jazz was making an effort to sit still and Clutch was staring at the bottom of the pipe and straining his ears for Poison Jam activity. Nothing. They were either staking out the pipe – unlikely, they weren't patient enough – or they'd gone to hunt the rest of the GGs down. He didn't think he wanted to take the chance.

Jazz sneezed, and he mentally rolled his eyes. _There's being cold,_ he thought, _and there's being melodramatic._

Suddenly, without thinking about it, he pulled at his T-Shirt, yanking it off and throwing it to the 'ground' beside him. Jazz stared.

"If you're stripping off to share body heat, I swear to God I'd rather face Poison Jam…"

"Aw, shaddup," he grumbled, but it was muffled through his other top, which he was pulling over his head. He threw it at Jazz – he saw her catch it between finger and thumb as though it was going to bite her before the world disappeared as he put his T-Shirt back on.

"Huh?"

"You sound like Yoyo when you do that," he couldn't resist putting in, before explaining, "You put that on. I'd rather put up with the cold than your complaining."

"Uhh…" Jazz seemed unsure of what to say, so she settled for giving him an unsure grin and a quiet, "Thanks."

The skin of his now bare arms started to come up in goosebumps, but he actually felt kinda warm inside.

"No problem."

He got down onto his stomach to look over the edge of the shelf, at the bottom of the pipe far below. He couldn't help grabbing onto the mesh with slightly damp palms, almost afraid he was going to fall.

"Someone…" Jazz gave a shaky laugh from behind him.

"Someone stop my hands from shaking."

Clutch twisted his head around to look over his shoulder – Jazz was struggling to get his top around the right way to put it on. Her hands were shaking too much. For a moment, he could help giving a bark of laughter, but as Jazz glared at him venomously, he stopped sheepishly.

He got up slowly, vertigo still bothering him slightly and walked over to her – one good thing about the wire mesh was he couldn't skate, only walk shakily.

"C'mere," he murmured, kneeling beside her. The two of them, working together, didn't take long to pull the top over Jazz's head, and when they were done, she wrapped her arms around herself and smiled gratefully.

For a few seconds, Clutch didn't want to move from where he was - knelt beside her, his arm lightly resting on her knee – despite all of her complaining to the contrary, she was warm, a kind of warmth that made him never want to move away from her…

_Oh, Jeez, listen to me… _He rolled his eyes at himself and went to back away – his plan was now to sit against the wall and keep his hands to himself for the rest of their time up there.

"Uhh… Clutch?" Jazz almost whispered, "You know what I said about body heat… Do you think you could…" She trailed off and blushed, but he understood her meaning just fine.

Chest constricting nervously, he sat against the side of the pipe, legs splayed, and let Jazz huddle up against him. She was shivering, kinda like a frightened mouse when you picked it up, and her breath was warm against his arm.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He probably shouldn't, but he kinda didn't want the GGs to find them for a while now.

* * *

Saturday Night at the Video Store - PG - Gen.

The video store was pretty quiet for a Saturday night, making it safe for a small group of GGs to pick out a DVD to watch. It was way too cold to go out tagging, so they'd bundled up and skated to the local BlockBusters instead.

"Ha ha! Yes!" Yoyo had found the porn section, and was now dragging a disapproving Beat over ("If you drool on me, I'll bloody kill you.") to provide a boost – he wasn't tall enough to reach the top shelves.

"If he thinks we're getting…," Gum, looking rather unusual in Jazz's scarf over her summer dress, floundered for an example, "'Sailor Hentai' or 'Erotic Raider', or…"

"I get the point," Corn interjected, holding up a hand to stop her before she got too into it.

Gum giggled, "Right. Or anything like that to watch tonight, he's got another think coming, I swear."

"Mm." Corn was barely interested – he was too preoccupied thinking about how much this little excursion was going to cost. There were six of them there, and if each picked out a video… Oh, Christ. He was definitely pawning off the DVD player tomorrow.

"Hey, the Blair Lesbian Project!" This utterly bemusing exclamation was followed by an almighty crash, followed by the sounds of Yoyo howling and Beat swearing loudly. The clerk winced and scowled, but was too afraid of them to intervene.

"Get this damned porno off my head, you little…" Yoyo snatched at the little box before Beat could make any horrible threats and added it to the rapidly growing stack smuggled into his hoodie.

"Want some popcorn?" Boogie called over; Rhyth, who had been perusing the romantic comedy section ("Awww, how cute! I have to get this one!") squealed and skated over, leaving two deep grooves in the carpet.

"Ooh, are they giving out free samples?"

"No, they're _selling_ bags of it." Boogie pointed at the display stand, which was giving off the faint scent of butter. Corn rolled his eyes. More expense.

"Well, can we get some?"

"Don't ask _me_!"

It took about twenty minutes for five of them to pick what they wanted, and Corn was left carrying a stack of bright yellow boxes to a very nervous clerk at the end of it. Gum, noticing the look on his face at the price, nudged at him with a sharp elbow.

"Maybe we could sell Yoyo to the white slave trade."

Corn growled, watching Yoyo still trying to reach the porn shelves.

"They'd give him back, knowing our luck."


	4. Saving Grace and Look Here

**Saving Grace**

_Drabbleme - **Rated R** – word count: 593 – line: 'Maybe it's too late to save you.'_

A tiny trickle of blood ran down her face; it started, warm and wet, at her hairline - and trickled down the bridge of her nose to end, cool and sticky on her lip. She licked it away. It tasted like she was sucking on a gold ring - not that she really knew what **that** tasted like.

Ai was the only Love Shocker left in the area - the GGs had took off in pursuit of the big mechanical beast Rokkaku had set on them, and her companions had either scarpered back to Hikage Street - or gone off to watch the fun, leaving fourteen year old Ai behind to fend for herself.

Who wanted to be lumbered with a bleeding, moaning fourteen year old? Ai sobbed, but tears seemed to have escaped her, and it stuck in her throat.

She had been captured only a few hours ago – or was it longer? Time had no real meaning when you were miserable and had no watch. Either way, she'd been just as miserable before – trying to practise tagging, **again**.

A few days ago, after messing up yet another small tag, Glister had told her, laughing:  
"Maybe nothing can save you now."

Her heart had twisted with dread but there was no need - Pearl was the leader, and Pearl seemed to have decided that Ai was a good enough skater to stay.

Today, she had to prove that. Made to race against the GGs in a game of Death Ball for Lord Yoyo's (the only thing about this situation that made her smile was that name) amusement, she had thought that for once, she'd be able to do something useful for her gang. Maybe they'd actually treat her like an equal, not just the annoying tagalong…

Then the silver haired renegade Rudie had kicked her in the face, stolen the ball and took off, leaving Ai lying there in the dust, blood pouring from the slash down her head like water from a broken pipe.

She sobbed again - her whole body jerked and a ribbon of coagulated blood slid from her forehead to rest on her eyelashes. She rubbed it away with a shaking hand.

She sat up and examined her skates, feeling a slightly unreasonable need to make sure they weren't broken – after all, she was bleeding like a stuck pig.. As she stared at them, newly formed tears blurring her vision, a tiny clump of pink-red hair drifted downward to lie on them, leaving a little track of scarlet; a vision of a sharp skate flying toward her forehead hit her and she bit back a sob as the pain spiked.

"Ai!" Her eyes widened and filled with tears as she heard Glister's rough, smoke-ruined voice tearing through the air at her. She was in for it now...

"You gonna sit there and blubber all night?" The other Love Shocker crouched down to her level and prodded her on the arm; her claw-like nails dug in and Ai bit her lip.

"N-no," she tried to say defiantly, but it came out as a whimper. Glister sniggered.

"Well, come on. You've got tagging practise to do," the older girl singsonged, before taking off into the night.

Ai got up, a little unsteadily. She'd go back and try again. And again - and she'd keep trying until eventually, Pearl kicked her out or she ran away. Her only saving grace was her skating skills - or she'd really be screwed.

Ai laughed shakily. No; she'd been screwed for a long time.

* * *

**Look Here** - **_By AngryScientist_**_ - G Rated_

((I was a bit surprised to be asked to put this on here, but I'm happy to, so here it is. By AngryScientist, but my picky self has picked through it a bit – sorry, sweetie!))

"And then – and then – and then…they-…..they said-," Rhyth whiningly babbled, as she crunched a tear soaked and rather rough tissue into her eyes which had already turned a well established shade of red from all the rubbing and crying.

"It's okay, Rhyth," said Gum, embracing her friend. As heartfelt as it was or how much it may or may not have meant to her, such attempts to calm Rhyth down when she was having an emotional outburst were purely futile. This event was no different.

"And they said, they said…they don't wanna see me in 99th Street again or they'll hurt me more!!!" Rhyth burst. It was really loud too, and almost all of the GGs who were in the Garage (and maybe a little beyond) heard her.

This was nearly all of them, and they gathered around Rhyth, who was sitting, legs splayed, on the floor, bawling her eyes out, Gum valiantly trying to calm her down and restore order.

Noticing the absence of both Cube and Yoyo, Rhyth glared for an instant, but this melted back into tears and histrionics as she noticed the attention she was getting.

The scene was familiar, so some of the GGs then began to grumble. Yeah, it was typical Rhyth, alright. However, they knew that if they left, she would cry even more, and they just couldn't stand hearing her moans and bellowing all night long.

"What happened, Rhyth?" asked Beat.

Rhyth sobbed once, loudly drawing in breath, before letting out as the loudest cry yet – Beat clapped his hands over his ears almost comically and snarled at her, but the young girl didn't hear or see it over her own hysterics.

That was the only response she could give. When she was telling a story, no matter how disjointed or how badly she told it, she did not like to be interrupted, and crying louder always shut people up.

This last cry attracted the rather belated attention of Cube and Yoyo, who pushed their way to the front of the crowd – Cube elbowed Clutch in the gut when he wouldn't move, and the resulting argument caused enough interest to make Rhyth think she was being forgotten. Another screech from her (this one sounding remarkably like how most people imagine a banshee to sound like) quickly sorted that out.

Cube, who often got pretty impatient with Rhyth at the best of times, mimed hitting the girl to Gum, who gave her a 'not now!' glare. Yoyo simply huffed at the distraction from his Game Boy.

"And then, they…they, and then they, and then, and they…" Rhyth began, as soon as she was sure she had the undivided attention of everyone in the area.

"God, Rhyth! What else?" Gum asked with a flustered tone, getting frustrated and impatient with Rhyth, who was becoming increasingly difficult to talk with.

Rhyth instantly screamed again, and the GGs who had leaned forward slightly to hear what she was so upset about jumped back.

"Okay, okay!" Gum babbled quickly, holding her arms out in a placating gesture – then she said, in a little calmer manner, "Rhyth, what else happened?"

"They, they, kicked me…and- and- and-," Rhyth said.

"And what?" urged Gum.

"And it hurt!" Rhyth spat.

Gum rolled her eyes. Why did Rhyth _always_ have to do this? It was so annoying! Can't Rhyth cope like a normal human being, instead of telling the whole world how bad she felt like she was from planet Whine-a-lot?

As if Rhyth heard Gum thinking, she then said, "But why should I tell you guys all this? You all think I'm annoying and you don't care one bit!"

This made all the GGs suddenly feel guilty, as they did feel that, and Rhyth knew it well too. Gum felt it especially, but she had to say something

"That's not true, Rhyth. We care for you!" Gum declared.

Rhyth's tears, whines, and bawling all stopped. "Really?" she asked meekly.

"Yes," said Gum.

"Is it true?" Rhyth asked, glaring at all of her companions.

All of the GGs nervously replied with either a 'yes', or 'yep', or 'sure', or even, 'that's right'.

"Awww, really?" Rhyth said, flattered, as she lifted her arms closer to her heart.

The GGs gave a collective nod.

"Aww, I love you!" Rhyth said, giving the closer person, being Gum, a tight squeeze and a kiss on the cheek.

If there's one thing she loved, it was attention. It didn't really matter that Rapid 99 had hurt her earlier, because she never felt hurt when some attention came her way.


	5. Blend In and Good Things

  
**Blend In**

_An 812 – actually, 811 now that I've sorted a stupid typo - word count for the 'drabble me' community – contains the line 'Well, I had it right here just a minute ago…'  
And, AngryScientist is going to do some serious bitching if I don't credit him for this whole idea, plot and concept, so he's being credited. :-mutters-: Anything for a quiet life.  
  
_

_"This is HQ to all squads: A gang has been spotted on Highway Zero. All officers to intercept immediately. I repeat…"_

Jazz jabbed at her wrist radio to shut off the droning voice and glanced around furtively, half expecting every cop in the city to be right on top of her. When the only sound she could hear was the passing of traffic far away, she went to slowly put down her half depleted spray can with a shaking hand.

She wasn't very good at escaping cops. She tended to panic and need another GG to bail her out, which they would always do, to their credit. Those who enjoyed – and were very much used to – the chases often got irritated with her, telling her that she wasn't a very good Rudie if she couldn't even run away from the cops, was she?

Before she could give into her desire to curl up against the wall and hope the police wouldn't see her, Jazz pushed herself away from the wall and took off toward the other side of the marketplace, where the other two were. As she got closer, she could hear them arguing.

"Wha'dya mean you've lost it?" a male voice yelled from somewhere just past the last of the stalls.

"Well, I had it right here just a minute ago!" That was Yoyo, she was sure; half nervous – she hated walking right into the middle of an argument – half relieved not to be on her own anymore, she moved out of the wary crowd, right into Clutch's line of view.

"Oh, yeah, and a little fucking birdie came and stole it, right? Hey!" Clutch had noticed her standing watching, "Anything been on the radio? Yoyo's just fucking _lost_ his, and mine's still broken."

For a moment, Jazz debated not telling them about the police bulletin – she could get the two of them to leave the highway pretty easily, and if she did tell them, they'd get mad about being stuck with her while the police were closing in.

"The police know we're here, they're closing in." She was really bad at lying. And besides, if she got found out… No, she'd rather just tell the truth and be done with it.

"Well, shit," Clutch ground out, glaring at Yoyo venomously, "How long ago was that?"

"Two or three minutes," she replied, feeling a surge of adrenaline as she considered how close the cops had probably gotten in that time. She clenched her fist, her nails digging into her palm, trying to stop it shaking.

"They can't get us in the Marketplace, right?" Yoyo said, sounding almost as nervous as her, "I mean, they don' wanna scare anyone, do they?"

"Probably not, but if you wanna stay here and try to blend in, be my guest. I'm going up to the unfinished highway – see where they are." With that, Clutch jumped at the nearest set of railings and took off.

Jazz was panicking. Every disaster that could possibly happen was running through her head, from being killed by their guns to being arrested and thrown into jail; her mind raced and she leaned herself against a wall in case she fell over.

"Jazz…?" She looked up – Yoyo was standing in front of her, looking at her curiously, "Why're you a Rudie if you're so scared of getting' caught?"

"I can skate and I can tag. The problem is, I can't do much else." She shrugged helplessly. "And there's not many legal jobs I can get with spray paint and inlines, is there?"

Yoyo 'hmm'ed, but didn't say anything more – much less anything helpful. Jazz didn't expect him to say anything that could change her life, by any means, but a simple 'hmm' just… She didn't dwell on it, or at least, she tried not to.

"We need to blend in," Yoyo said suddenly, just as she heard the sound of sirens in the distance.

"Didn't Clutch say that?"

"Well, we ain't done it yet. 'Sides, me an' you – we don't stand any chance getting past a shitload o' cops, yo."

He could say that again. The police force had taken to using massive Doberman dogs and air support recently – surprisingly few of the GGs liked dogs at all, but Yoyo was freakishly scared of them and Jazz was just scared of the police, full stop.

It wasn't too long before both had thrown their skates and conspicuous clothing into a nearby alleyway, and were wandering around the marketplace, the punters not even giving them a second glance. Yoyo immediately took off to look at a mobile phone stand.

Jazz took a long, slow breath, barely even looking at the display of video games in front of her. This was the closest she would get to being normal for a long, long time – she would have to make the most of it.

* * *

Good Things: G Rated - Cube/Mew - Jet Set (Grind) Radio  
For the 'I do' project - sticking the finger up to George Bush's homophobia since... a few weeks ago. ;  
-----  
"You know…" Mew started merrily, as she flicked a needle and thread in and out of a piece of white fabric.

"No, I don't. Enlighten me." Cube was too busy to listen to anything Mew had to say at that moment, which was weird to say the least – when this whole carry-on had started, she'd probably been the most cynical of all of them about it.

'I mean, a wedding, for Pete's sake…' she had thought, 'We're street punks, not friggin' debutantes!'

"I always wanted to design all the dresses for my wedding, but I hated the thought o' making the bridesmaid dresses 'cause they couldn't be as pretty as the bride's."

"Mm-hmm." Cube kept scribbling on the yellowed pad, hardly listening.

"And now…"

Mew was building up to something, she just knew it.

"I get to make two really pretty bride gowns for my wedding!"

Jesus.

Having paid no attention to what Mew had been doing, Cube didn't hear the little 'clack, clack, clack' noises stop – and she jumped when Mew seemed to appear kneeling in front of her.

Mew kissed her; the girl's mouth tasted of sweets and good things, and despite herself, Cube melted into it, leaned into the light touch that caressed her cheek.

And to think she found herself wondering why she was marrying this girl.

"Thank you," Mew murmured against her mouth, and for once, Cube couldn't think of a thing to say.


	6. Lull and Fly Eyes

Disclaimer: Jet Set Radio Future and the characters, scenarios and locales therein are exclusive property of Sega and Smilebit. I'm only borrowing them for my own (and hopefully other people's) entertainment, there's no profit involved.

Note: there are some problems with bolding and italicising here... i.e. most of its not getting done. One of these times, FFN may sort this problem. :-cough-:

-

Lull - Rating: PG-13 -Word count: 428 (I used Word to get this)

_A sort of meta-fic from a collaboration I'm working on, the Dare Game – from the title, you can probably guess the reason for Yoyo's choice of clothing._

99th Street was in that lull between the daytime shopping crowd and the nighttime clubbing one – the sun was beginning to set, and the last of the shops were just closing.

The whole place smelt like one big Chinese takeaway – of noodles and wonton soup, and there was a greasy feel to the air. By ten o'clock, it would become humid and sort of sweaty, and every now and then a cool breeze would waft in the scent of exhaust fumes from far away on Highway Zero. It wasn't nice to live in, but to visit... it wasn't so bad. Really.

This was a perfect time for some GG tagging – no people to report them, no clubs open to distract them.

"I can't be bothered. It's too hot, damn it," Gum groused, dragging her painting arm through the air in what was supposed to be a graceful arc. It wasn't, and the shop window soon looked as if an alien had sneezed on it.

Soda was having a little more luck with the alleyway wall – he wasn't as lethargic, after all, and it was cool and light from the cats' eyes on the ground sprayed across the walls.

"Where's Yoyo?" Gum, realising she was having no luck with the window, lost interest in both it and the contents (nurses uniforms and cat o' nine tails whips) and went to lean on the railing running around Benten Square, gazing out over Benten Tower with a smile, at the lights flickering faintly over the water underneath; the dragon statue wound around the tower all but sparkled.

Soda joined her. "Who gives a shit? If he's not here, we don't have to look at his legs, right?"

Before Gum even had time to say anything, the two jumped as Yoyo tore past them, legs bare, pale white and almost glowing in the dim light – he'd forsaken his usual shorts for a pink Speedo (at a dare from the Love Shockers), a source of much mirth among the GGs.

The three Rapid 99 girls, one of whom was screaming at him between pants, were chasing him – he was obviously enjoying himself, but they looked livid.

"Get back here, you little bastard!" the young woman screamed, knocking over an old lady in her haste to catch up.

Soda and Gum made no attempt to chase them, and merely watched, shaking their heads in unison.

"He's an embarrassment." Gum sighed.

"Think of it this way." Soda said, "At least it's not animal print."

The two glanced at each other and creased up with laughter.

* * *

Fly Eyes - Rating: PG-13  
  
This was not for drabble-me. It branches out from my usual stuff a lot, in that my usual stuff is written from the perceptive of humans. So... er, sorry if I manage to bore you a lot here.  
-----  
  
The spider was just minding her own business, really. Spinning her web expertly, setting up both a temporary home and an elite hunting trap for any silly fly that would venture into it.  
  
She was completely unaware of an outside world - most notably, the red-headed human teenager watching its progress lazily at that very moment.  
  
Had the spider been a little more well versed in the ways of humans, she would have been shocked to find him by her haven - after all, they were about twenty feet above ground level, on a green bus shelter on Shibuya Bus Route.  
  
It wasn't until she was finished creating the web for the day that she noticed him - her first reaction was the almost-thought that if she could just get him into the web, she would eat like a queen.  
  
He wasn't really moving though - humans usually did a lot of moving, blustering around like the stupid mammals they were, eating, mating and generally being... stupid. This one was strange - not dangerous, just strange; lying on his vast stomach (didn't that _hurt_?), head resting on the two front limbs - what looked like a pair of antennae were sticking out of each side of his head.  
  
The spider didn't know how right she really was about that one.  
  
He sighed; the web shook violently and the spider shook with it, clinging grimly to the gossamer strands.  
  
"I hate her." The voice, low and vehement, shook the web once more - the spider did the closest thing to rolling her eyes as she possibly could.  
  
"She does things, you know? She... whenever she's around, I just... Oh, fuck."  
  
The spider fixed a detached strand of web and ignored him.  
  
"It's like... I want to get as far away from her as I can, but at the same time - I want to be with her, all the time. And stupid bitch doesn't even know she's doing it."  
  
He shifted, and leaned down so he was looking her almost right in the eye; he was so close she could see every detail of his head, the strange compound eyes - for a race that hated and made to kill all insects, it certainly did copy them a lot - the dabs of dark colour around his nose.  
  
"Not that you'd know anything - you're just a bug. Hell, you shag and then you kill each other."  
  
He swiped at the web - it went flying, a day's work gone, drifting over and hitting the leg of the shelter; the spider scuttled into a dark corner, angry and frightened.  
  
At her vantage point, she saw another human - a female? - at ground level, half running, half flying toward the shelter.  
  
"Come on, Beat! Get tagging!" she yelled; stopping underneath the slab of green metal, she began to shift around as if fidgeting on hot sand.  
  
"Fuck off, Gum, I'll do what I want!" 'Beat' didn't move - it wasn't until the female took off again with that strange gliding gait that he snarled,  
  
"Stupid bitch."  
  
- and the violent vibrations shaking the shelter told the spider he was finally leaving.  
  
He would forget the little spider in about a day, too busy with his own social dilemmas and little human problems - and she, concerned with mere survival, would just as soon forget him.  
  
But maybe he would remember his own words and do something about them; and maybe she would learn to keep away from humans with fly eyes in the future.  
  



	7. Winner Takes Eight K and In Death

_**Winner Takes Eight K**_

_**Note: **_This probably won't be very understandable to Americans. It's based on a popular British gambling game, and includes a stupid Peter Kay joke.

_**Further Note (these will stop soon, promise!)**: For those who don't know, –sama is a Japanese suffix of the highest highest highest respect – for example, 'Kami-Sama': 'God'. I couldn't think of an English equivalent that would sound right, so it's there._

Corn was, almost uncharacteristically, you might say, in a very good mood – Japan had recently started its own version of the British National Lottery (because let's face it, any excuse to get cute girls in swimsuits playing with balls is a-OK with the Japanese), and Corn, who put one bar on a week for shits and giggles, had just won 100,000 Yen on it.

Finding out this had been rather amusing. He had checked, checked again, checked again just for good measure and then, sure he'd got it right, jumped up in the air, screaming like a maniac (scaring every punter in Dogenzaka Mall, may I add) and forgetting that he was in fact perched on a stair rail while checking his numbers – he fell over backwards only to get himself stuck between the rail and the wall, to be helped out by a hysterically laughing Renegade who happened to be passing.

Of course, he'd had to scat the kid out of his territory before doing anything else.

Now. He _could_ just spend all the money on a new pair of skates or summat... or a new pinball machine... or even some new clothes or a haircut (he was starting to look like a little blonde hippy – yeuch) – but he was entirely too nice, so each GG got... Err, wait a minute, some simple arithmetic required... -- 8000 Yen each. With enough left over for a celebratory takeaway.

Ah, yes. Life was good. Corn liked gambling – a healthy way of encouraging healthy risk-taking, he thought (he had completely forgotten that upon wasting 100 Yen on a duff bar last week, he had called gambling the vice of Satan).

Telling the guys would be easier than telling the girls, he'd thought to himself on the Sunday (no wild squealing and bear hugs – he hoped) – so he'd tell them first; it was so damned hard to get all eleven of them in one place at one time that getting them into gender groups and doing it that way was just so much less of a headache for him.

So, Sunday afternoon – Rhyth and Boogie out window-shopping, Gum and Cube out making out somewhere and Jazz probably, dunno... looking for shapes in the clouds or whatever it was she did in her free time – and the GG males were gathered in the Garage, grumbling about missed tagging time and making mumbled plans to lynch Corn if this was even slightly less important than he'd said it was, the lying little... Yeah.

"Guys..."

Building up the tension. Always a good thing.

"We've won the lottery."

"Fuck off, no we haven't." That was Clutch, one skate on, one skate off and looking like he'd been dragged through a bush backward.

"OK, Piss-kick Peg, whatever you say. Now... will I keep your 8 K share or will the lesbian brass band get it?" Corn pulled out a wad of cash for emphasis. The other six glanced at each other, grinned wildly and cheered so loudly and suddenly that Corn fell over backward, swearing all the time.

"Whoa whoa whoa... We only get 8 K each?" Clutch asked, as soon as the noise died – Corn was starting to get the feeling that Clutch just didn't want a reason to take things out of shops legitimately.

At this, Yoyo jumped forward and clamped a hand over the redhead's mouth, saying quickly,

"He doesn't mean it really, Corn-sama, he's just playing, yo!" He hissed in Clutch's ear, obviously thinking no one could hear him (they all could), "We ain't gonna get the money if you insult him, yo-**ow**!"

Clutch had bitten the hand covering his mouth. Hard. This left Yoyo nurturing a bleeding finger, muttering something about possible salmonella contamination.

"Shut up, the pair of you. Here," Corn said, after a few moments of wondering what possessed him to let those two into the gang – he pushed 8000 Yen at each of them and shoved them both toward Shibuya Terminal.

Yoyo quickly got over his sore finger and took off, yelling something as he did that most of them didn't hear. (Clutch half-walked, half-rolled in the general direction of the half-pipe.)

"Did he say 'coffee creams'?" Soda asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I think he did." Garam shrugged. The pair of them glanced at each other and shrugged.

"You know somethin'?" Combo said mock-sagely, "Candy says many things 'bout people."

"Yup. It says 'Yoyo's a fucking head-case'." Beat muttered, grabbing his 8000 Yen and taking off toward the roof to plan what to do with it in peace.

Corn thought about this for a minute, and then shouted up at Beat, "Shouldn't it tell us something we **don't** know?"

* * *

In Death  
Hallowe'en Drabble 

"Trick or tre-eat!"

"Fuck off!"

_Slam_

Clutch's simple, no-hassle way of dealing with the little kids: roaring expletives at them, slamming the apartment door in their faces and hoarding the candy. Delightful. Rhyth grimaced as Clutch threw another handful of sticky red stuff into his mouth and continued to vegetate on the beat-up sofa.

The apartment? A little winter hideaway. Like they were going to sit in the **open-air** Garage and freeze their skates off all winter? No way. The very thought made her feel cold!

She glanced around the small, crowded main room; Yoyo, Beat and, surprisingly, Jazz were concocting come kind of plan involving Hayashi's force car, a lot of toilet paper, a tampon (for tying to the car aerial, you understand), some red lipstick ganked from Gum (perfect for writing 'Hayashi: camper than a field full of Boy Scouts' on the windscreen) and a lot of fake blood (spray it everywhere for shits 'n' giggles, naturally).  
Corn and Gum were in 'deep conversation' about something - probably how to get squatting rights on the apartment or some such thing.  
Soda, Clutch, Cube and Combo were sharing candy and vegetating.  
Garam was out (probably egging those unlucky enough to walk past him).  
Boogie was painting her nails.

And her? Staring out the window, watching the children in their little costumes and half-heartedly counting the stars - what little she could see of them.

Should she just go join the others? Help play nasty tricks on people? Pig out on disgusting sugary stuff? Do something silly like give herself a pedicure or talk about apartments? Pfft. No, thanks.

Wasn't Hallowe'en supposed to be about... you know, remembering the dead? Warding the evil spirits, remembering those who have passed on, that kind of thing. When did it turn into - she glanced at the sofa as Clutch burped loudly - _this_?

She, Rhyth, used to remember her relatives on Hallowe'en. First her Grandma - a woman she barely remembered, but they always did things like put candles out for her (did any other family do that?... She didn't know) and remember her.

Then her great aunt Korin, a scary old lady who spoke like a man and walked on a knobbly stick like a witch. She had made Rhyth giggle, but not when they were in the same room - and certainly not when she died, lying pale and cold in the coffin, dressed in black and holding some kind of flower.

Only eight at the time - Rhyth hadn't realised that **this** was death. Death, before then, had been some kind of distant thing that she didn't have to think about; you thought about it in a sort of detached way at Hallowe'en, but it just didn't fit into every day life, did it? But then Obasan... lying there like she was asleep, little Rhyth peeking over the edge of the coffin as if the old woman would wake any second and glare at her with those beady little eyes...

Again, she looked at the GGs - the candy was finished, so the four on the sofa seemed to have dropped into sugary almost-sleep dozes. Everyone else was gone, save for Boogie, who was reading a manga almost gingerly.

To them, death seemed about as likely as pigs flying - it was some kind of abstract concept that happened to other people, but never them; an affliction you didn't get if you were smart.  
As for Hallowe'en? Well, you played tricks on people and ate candy.

Why would a group of people determined to pretend death didn't happen bother to celebrate it?


	8. Outside Looking In and Light of The Moon

**Disclaimer: **Jet Set Radio Future is the property of Sega/Smilebit - everything you recognise belongs to them.

**Note:** On the Outside Looking In, the first drabble, is PG-13 - the second, By The Light of The Moon, is R, pushing on NC-17 - I don't think it** is** NC-17 - that's why it's here, but still. (On The Outside Looking In was written in late December or early January, which is why it is in fact about The New Year.)

**Title** On the Outside Looking In  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 893  
**Notes/Summary **Clutch isn't having a good time of things this Christmas/New Year.

"But it's just the fucking New Year!" Clutch sat up properly on the sofa and threw his hands up in frustration, "It's just New Year, but Rhyth's running round with a mop 'n' broom like a housewife on crack, every whore and her auntie's suddenly turned into Shintoists or whatever the fuck and everywhere you turn it's all 'Happy New Year! Happy New Year!'. Happy my ass."

Rhyth was actually passing by at this point, but as Clutch's ranting was in rapid English, she barely seemed to realise he'd mentioned her. It was nice being one of only four English speakers in the gang (and Corn and Jazz could only speak classic Engrish, which was worth more as entertainment than deep conversation material).

"Well, if you took Rhyth and put her in America, she'd probably think we were all being dipshits about Christmas, right?" Boogie said; Clutch refrained from telling her that Christmas was just as damned stupid; let her think she was being all diplomatic.

"I mean, she prob'ly doesn't know who Jesus is, just like you and me know next to nothing about Shinto." She leaned toward him and spoke quietly – pretty useless seeing as how no one else in the Garage understood what they were saying, "About a week ago, she asked me if Christmas was Santa Claus's birthday."

"You **are** joking." Clutch blinked and stared.

"Nope. Then when I sort of staggered away, trying not to laugh my ass off right in front of her, she went back to her little _'Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus, right down Santa Claus lane!'_ thing."

There was a short pause as Clutch marvelled at the weirdness of it and Boogie hummed the _'Here Comes Santa Claus'_ tune. Finally, Clutch stood, really wanting to get out of the Garage now.

"C'mon," he said to Boogie, who amiably allowed herself to be dragged to her feet and pulled off toward 99th Street. On the way out, Clutch swiped at the snow hung over the rails like tinsel and threw it – he'd meant to hit Yoyo, but managed to impale the stuff on the snowman's carrot nose instead. Couldn't've done that if he **tried**.

Boogie ran ahead of him, laughing – his gut wrenched, but in a **good** way – as Yoyo stormed over toward him, slipped on the snow and landed flat on his back, cursing all the while. Clutch sauntered off, sniggering, and joined Boogie on the Highway.

99th Street was the kind of place that just **never** changed. It was like one big party all year round; no stupid Christmas decorations (they'd get stolen), no Shinto (the shrines would get vandalised, puked on, smashed in drunken rages), no **nothing**. Just non-stop, twenty-four hour fun. What kind of fun? Anything you wanted, but if it was rated 18 or above, you went to Highway Zero – plenty street corners there.

Clutch's plan for the night had been to go to a nightclub, forget all this holiday crap, drink himself stupid and stagger in the general direction of the Garage before falling flat on his face and using the snow as an impromptu pillow. That had sounded quite good.

Boogie, though, wanted to just stand on the tower and do nowt, and… that had been his second choice, so he kicked the snow off the top end (there was a wet thud and a yell from down below) and they sat down, dangling their feet over the edge and watching the little people – looked like ants from all the way up here, just take a magnifying glass and _poof_ – scurrying about. There was a companionable silence.

It had been pretty weird at first, finding out Boogie was American as well – it was like they had something in common, although as it turned out, Boogie had lived at the opposite end of the country. Still, it'd been kinda nice to know that when he got sick of having to rack his brains for this and that Japanese phrase, he could just talk to Boogie and be relatively 'normal'.

And Boogie was really cool when you got past her stupid habit of stating the absolute obvious. Hell, she was just plain cool; if you took away the stupid habits, would she still be Boogie, anyway? Clutch didn't know.

He looked at her again; she was sitting up properly now and looking across at the river – it sparkled and glowed in the street lights and so did she, and she just looked so… He kissed her. Something in his head clicked - _I really do like this chick_ – and he had to struggle not to smile.

He hadn't been going to go all creepy on her or anything – kiss her once and then see where it went from there – but before he could even think about what to do next, she pulled away from him.

"Huh?"

"Sorry, Clutch." And she really **did** look sorry – somehow that just made it worse, "But… no. Just, no."

She got up and dusted herself off – if she wiped her lips, he didn't see her do it.

"I'll see you back at the Garage, 'kay?"

She was gone. Clutch glared at nothing, just for a moment, and got up.

"Fucking hate New Year." He jumped off the tower and made for the nearest club – getting hopelessly drunk was back on the agenda.

* * *

**Title **By The Light of The Moon**  
Rating** R  
**Word Count** 645  
**Summary **Because nothing is ever worth the hype. 

On 99th Street, beside the river and close to the area that got all the power cuts back last year, there was an abandoned apartment building – people in the area either thought it was haunted, the Yakuza used them or both and wouldn't go near it.

In truth, neither was true – and Saturday nights would see drunks crawling around the first floor, throwing up blood and weeping harshly, guys sticking four syringes into each arm and running around laughing (and if you really wanted a freak show, one guy on the second floor would stick two into his forehead for a hundred yen), prostitutes doing business on the lower floors.

And the third through fifth floors? Most of the time, nobody had the mental coordination to get up there. They fell back down to the second floor and the cracks would echo up the walls.

Perfect, Clutch'd said. No one would come up here, too far up for anything to be heard. No interruptions, he'd said. For some reason, that didn't make Jazz happy.

They'd broken into one of the rooms on the top floor – a couple of power cables went right past a smashed window – into a corridor and straight into one of the rooms, one the renegades sometimes dossed in because it had a half way decent mattress, a working bathroom and a lock. Clutch locked the door and turned to grin at her. Jazz told herself he wasn't trying to be as creepy as she was seeing it.

First just kissing – kissing was familiar, nice, didn't make her gut wrench and maybe if she was good enough at that, being _nice_, he would… take pity on her?

_Course not. He thinks I want this just as much as he does_.

_I do._

_Right?_

_Right_.

Sitting on the mattress now, knees drawn up, trying to enjoy the closeness even while her stomach throbbed in her throat. Kicked her skates off – better, but the floorboards felt splintery.

Clutch moved in closer, started to pull at her top-

_No. I don't want this, do I?_

Could she back out now without Clutch being angry?... Not really. In for the penny, in for the pound, as Boogie said.

_Boogie says stupid things._

Naked. Cold air. Lying back on the bed and resolutely staring out the window at the clouds and full moon even as she was kissed again, even as he did other things that made her back arch and her breath come in gasps – but she didn't want to pay attention any more.

_Just get it over with and you can tell him you're allergic to his sperm or something._

Short pause - _God, he's even brought condoms!_, in which Jazz self-consciously pressed an arm over her tingling breasts and looked down. Hazy moonlight draped itself over her thighs and sex, _better than what's going to be there in a minute_; she lay back and closed her eyes.

Kissed again, just once. He was saying something, she didn't hear but gave a noncommittal 'mm-hmm' just in case he wanted her to do something other than panic and squeeze her eyes shut like a child in the dark.

Sharp sting between her legs – "Ah!" – then it was hot, fiery.

_I didn't know that moonlight could burn_, she thought, and smiled. Nicer to think it was still just her and the moon.

Still some pain, but… nothing sensational. Nor was the pleasure, nor the orgasm that sliced through her gut, nor even the searing kiss that under any other circumstance, she would have relished.

Later. Clutch was asleep, leaving her safe to sit on the toilet in the cool semi-dark, thinking alone.

That was… nothing. Nothing worth being afraid of. Nothing worth getting hyped up over.

It didn't even hurt that much. Just a little prick.

At that, she laughed – and didn't stop for a long time.


End file.
